What Makes a Man: Sorrow
by SilkenNightmare
Summary: Young Rufus, might be a bit depressing to some, no graphic violence or cursing.


Disclaimer: I don't own characters.  
Authors Note: Yes, this is my first fan fic of any type. I will write (have already written) other stories along these lines, and will have another similar series(?) for Reno at least. Please review, constructive criticism greatly desired, but I'd really like you to say nice things too. Um. Thanks =) 

  
  
  


What Makes a Man: Sorrow 

  
  
_"I never meant nothing, I was just my father's son."_-Paul Simon, My Little Town 

  
Rufus let his head fall forward, as his eyes closed softly. He refused to look, he would not look. His father didn't look either, but for a different reason, not that anyone else knew that. His hand held his father's limply, protected from actually touching by white leather gloves. He let himself be led by his father's dead arm, quietly following after the man, eyes downcast.   
  
"Now stay here, Rufus." He heard his father say, the small part of his mind still awake was surprised at the softness in the man's voice, and wondered idly, if he had not actually been following one of the many guards present. But no, he dimly recognized the black clothed arm and gloved hand that dropped his own, as his father moved away.  
  
He stood there, eyes half open, staring at the ground, arm still slightly raised. Phrases floated to him on the breeze, 'so young,' 'how sad,' 'tell us?!' 'not even crying' 'so handsome…' Rufus let them flow over him, caressing and burning.  
  
In time he heard his father's voice, talking about love and kindness. Rufus lifted his head, noticing in passing that an older woman, an aunt he presumed, was standing beside him and running her hand through his light gold hair.   
  
"Oh dear," she said softly, as he looked up towards his father, "I'm so sorry… I wish I could take you home."   
  
Rufus' eyes trained on his father, as he listened to the words sliding out of the man's mouth between unrealistic hitches.  
  
"It's a terrible tragedy. And it will take a very long time for Rufus and me to recover from this awful blow," the man's eyes sparkled with tears that didn't fall.   
  
I wonder who wrote this speech, Rufus thought with detached disgust as his father continued.  
  
"She was under a lot of stress, trying to bring Midgar to the glory it could have, and I suppose it was just too much for her."  
  
Too much? Rufus thought, resentment growing into hatred, she never would have left me… I know it was you, you and some blindly loyal pig… She didn't do this to herself. She never would have left me with you.   
  
"We all loved her very deeply, but I know we will preserve her memory in our hearts…"   
  
No! How can you do this? How can he say that? Rufus' eyes widened in fury, and he half looked for someone to stop the stream of lies falling so easily from his father's lips, but he only people he saw were captured and held by the man's false sorrow. What don't they see? Are they all really such fools? Why doesn't anyone ever see?   
  
His eyes flicked back to his father. "This has hurt me deeply, but through all this…"  
  
How could he do that to her, cheat on her, ridicule her, abandon her, poison her, and then act like… like she meant something! He considered screaming, crying, throwing himself at his father, or at the large white box, pounding at it until the guards pulled him away. It would be forgiven by everyone but the old man himself, after all, how was a 7-year-old boy supposed to act? It was his very coldness, his refusal to do anything that made them look at him like they did. With worry, and a touch of fear, only The Turks, the bodyguards for this occasion, regarded him calmly, as if nothing had changed. Nothing ever changed to them.   
  
But everything had changed. Rufus rolled his head slightly, and returned his gaze to the ground, catching sight of his white shoes. Ah, that was what had disturbed everyone most of all, the young Shinra's dress. He was clothed entirely in white, from shoelaces to jacket. It was the white that truly made them look at him, his father had especially gaped. The man had stood in his room, dressed in the traditional black and asking how Rufus dare present himself like that, asked if it was some kind of rebellion.   
  
Rufus had considered telling him he was too young to rebel, but had opted for silence instead. Letting his father shout at him, until finally the old man had grabbed his hand and propelled the boy along and into the car. Rufus had known his father would not leave him home; the man wouldn't miss the opportunity to show the public the remains of his grieving family in an attempt to prove that the Shinra cooperation was more than a lair for monsters. His father was trying to look human; but Rufus didn't care.   
  
The woman beside him let out a soft sob, pulling Rufus from his thoughts. Her hand had settled itself upon his shoulder, which she was squeezing gently. Another sob escaped her. Rufus looked up at her, at her kind features clouded with sadness. He carefully peeled off his left glove, and reached up to take her hand.   
  
She smiled down at him, tears in her eyes. "White… White was her favorite color, you know."   
  
The woman's hand felt warm and soft in his own. "I know."  
  
He looked to his father again, who was accepting condolences as he moved towards his son. Rufus dropped his eyes, and offered his gloved right hand to his father. President Shinra gripped it firmly, and pulled him away from the woman, Rufus smiled sadly at her as his father tugged him in front of the photographers, it was his only show of emotion all day.   
  
Rufus stood, silently, solidly, stoically as the camera's flashed, his perfect features, and perfect hair, and perfect eyes on display for the press, just like his mother had been, in the open coffin, while his father held him too close. White against black.   
  
I wish I could take you home. She had said. So do I, Rufus thought, staring at the blinking cameras. But I'll never have a home again.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
